Partners In Detention Crimes
by Kalia Clyde
Summary: From one detention to... a kiss? And another detention? This shouldn't happen to the Head Girl of Hogwarts. HermioneBlaise Zabini


**A/N:** Yet another drabble done for my LiveJournal account's drabble challenge list. Pointless fluffage really. Enjoy it.

* * *

**Partners In Detention Crimes**

Hermione glared at the trophy in front of her. Her Head Girl badge seemed to mock her as it shone in the reflection the golden chalice showed. She rolled her eyes and threw down the rag in her hand as she shook her head and huffed. This was utterly ridiculous. As Head Girl of Hogwarts, she shouldn't have been in this situation.

The fact that she was sitting in detention on a Friday night was pure idiocy. And the thing that angered her most was that she would probably have to spend twice as long polishing the trophies because her detention partner was already a half hour late.

Standing, she kicked an empty can of polish and stalked over to a case to begin putting back some trophies she had already finished. As she stooped to pick up another award to some student of the school for outstanding merit, the door opened and in walked none other than Mr. Blaise Zabini himself.

"It's about time," Hermione barked. "Where've you been?"

"In the hospital wing," Blaise replied as he walked over and picked up a rag and a can of polish. That's when she noticed his hand.

It was heavily bandaged, although his black school robes did a good job of hiding it.

He walked to the opposite side of the room and pulled a trophy down. As he sat it upon the floor, Hermione spoke up.

"I've already cleaned the ones in that case."

"Then you didn't do a very good job," he administered as he scratched at a spot on one of the ones that remained in the display.

She pursed her lips and clutched the trophy in her hand tighter, feeling the urge to throw the metal object across the room at the back of his head. Pushing down the anger she felt, Hermione turned her back to him and continued to replace the freshly cleaned and shined plaques.

Minutes spent in silence past to hours, the only occasional break to the stillness was the squeak of the rag on the gold or silver, or the exhausted sighs that escaped her. When she looked up, she groaned at the time. It was just after ten o'clock in the evening, and there were still three full display containers and a pile of old, broken medals that needed mending.

Hoping to be done by eleven, she grabbed another golden, goblet-like award and her can of polish. Hermione frowned as she looked at the can. It was empty, and she didn't have anymore. Damn Filch for not giving her enough cleaner. That meant that she would have to spend even more time searching his office, which she probably wouldn't get into, so she would have to search the castle for the caretaker first. Or worse. She would have to share the remaining can with Blaise.

Looking back over her shoulder, she watched him for a moment. He looked just as frustrated as her as he rubbed vigorously at a stubborn spot on the bronze medal he was currently buffing. His forehead was glistening with beads of sweat, and his robe lay forgotten beside him as he sat there with his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up.

Hermione found herself marveling at the muscle of his arms when he finally got fed up and threw the award across the floor. Tossing the dirty, frayed rag over his shoulder and onto the floor, he stood and began dusting himself off. Turning to her, he spoke.

"How many more do you have to go before you're finished?" he inquired.

Blinking a few times, Hermione shook her head to wake herself from her daze.

"Just these two," she said, pointing to two silver chalices beside her. "But that still leaves those three holders and that pile of broken ones to be fixed."

He gave an irritated snort as he ran a hand over his short, dark hair.

"This is ridiculous. Filch is a prat for assigning this," Zabini complained in a grumble. "In fact," he added, "this is really unfair because I shouldn't even be here."

Hermione knew that comment was meant to offend her, and quite frankly, it did.

"Oh, and I am?" she snapped as she got to her feet, which were tingling from lack of blood flow for sitting the way she had for so long.

"Yeah, you should be," Blaise responded hastily with aggravation. "It was you who started this whole thing, in case you forgot."

"It was an accident!" Hermione roared as she threw her rag at him.

"Mmhmm," Blaise nodded sarcastically. "It was such an accident. You just ever so innocently bumped into Weasley so that he tipped that boiling cauldron of whatever it was he was making on me."

"I never meant for him to upset a bubbling cauldron of brewing potion on you, if that's what you're implying," she hissed.

"Then what did you push him for?" Blaise snarled.

"That's none of your business," Hermione fought back. "And in case you forget, I didn't force you to send a curse flying across the room, now did I?"

"It wouldn't have went flying across the room if you and Weasley hadn't ducked at the last minute," Blaise retaliated.

"Typical slimy git from Slytherin," Hermione muttered as she turned her back to him and folded her arms over her chest.

Blaise shook his head and walked across the room to the pile of broken trophies. He began picking through things, matching up pieces and laying them aside. Once he had a few awards matched up with their missing pieces, he pulled his wand out and prepared to fix them.

"What are you doing?" Hermione questioned urgently.

"I'm going to fix these."

"Filch said no magic."

"Then what am I supposed to mend these with?" Blaise demanded.

Hermione pointed to the center of the room where a rather large tube of _Kwik Spell's Kwik Fix Adhesive_ lay on the floor.

"You've got to be bloody joking," he grumbled. "That stuff doesn't work. I mean, have you seen the statue on the sixth floor that he tried repairing with that rubbish? The head is leaning to the side and the arm is sliding off because the glue won't hold."

"That's what he told me we were supposed to use," Hermione explained.

"Well, I'm not using it. The blasted things will just fall apart in the cases, and he'll make us come back tomorrow night or the night after or something to fix them all over again."

"But if you use magic, he's going to know, and we're going to get in trouble for not following directions," she hissed.

"How's he going to know, Granger?"

"For one, he's going to see that none of the adhesive is missing from the tube. And two, he's going to see that they're actually sticking together. You said yourself that the stuff doesn't work."

"Looks like we're stuck then," Blaise said as he stood and approached her. "We either do it my way and have it work and then get in trouble. Or we can do it your way and have it not work and just have to come back to do it all over again. Your choice."

She sighed audibly and looked away at the remaining work. As she thought about it, he stared at her. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she looked extremely tired. There were strands of hair out of place and hanging in her face. He found himself wanting to tuck them back behind her ear. '_Where did that come from?'_ he pondered to himself as he watched her look to the glue on the floor and the empty cans of polish.

"Fine," she finally breathed in surrender. "We'll do it y-," she paused as she looked up at him. "What are you staring at?" she question as she realized he was studying her face.

He simply shook his head and watched as she looked at a glass panel in a nearby display, obviously checking for polish or some other smeared substance on her face. But there was nothing, and when she discovered this, she looked back at him with a slightly furrowed brow.

"What?" she quizzed again.

"Nothing," he half laughed as he shook his head. The fact that he could make her so paranoid just by looking at her was amusing him.

"Then what on earth are you staring at me like that for?" she demanded, feeling both annoyed and worried. "I believe I have a right to know," she added forcefully.

"Fine, Granger," he shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not too much of a '_typical slimy Slytherin_'," he mocked, "to tell you that I was admiring how pretty you are."

"Listen, I'm not going to st-," she stopped. She had gotten mad when he mocked her, but the reality of what he just said hit her in that second. "Admiring how pretty I am?"

He nodded and chuckled under his breath.

"Me?" she practically whispered. She was almost speechless that a Slytherin would call her 'pretty'.

"Surely you know," Blaise sighed, slowly getting irritated by her stupidity to the fact. "C'mon now. McLaggen should have made that quite clear last year at Slughorn's party when he walked around with that stupid grin on his face because he was your date. And it's not like you don't notice how angry Weasley gets when you talk to other guys, or that Krum wasn't head over heels for you in our fourth year. Every guy at the Yule Ball was staring at either you or that Delacour girl."

Hermione blushed and bowed her head as she fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. It had suddenly gotten very hot, and she felt very conscious of how she was breathing under his scrutiny.

"C'mon. Let's get finished," he partly mumbled as he turned and went back to the pile of broken trophy pieces.

She bit down on her lip and felt the need to get out of the room immediately, so she too removed her wand from her robes and began cleaning the medals. Half an hour passed with her constantly stealing glances at him to see if he was looking at her, and finally they had finished with twenty minutes remaining until midnight.

He gathered is robes and headed for the door as she placed the last trophy on the shelf and slid the glass pane door back into place. Sighing, she surveyed a job well done and put her wand away.

"See you around, Granger," he called as he opened the door and left her alone in the room.

She stared at the open door for a second before feeling alone and a little compelled to thank him for suggesting that they use magic to get done sooner. Who knew how long they would have been there if they hadn't. And not only did she feel that she should thank him, but that she should also admit that she was sorry for pushing Ron and causing him to knock over the cauldron.

Hermione ran for the door and out into the corridor in just enough time to see him round the corner at the end of the hallway.

"Blaise!" she whispered urgently, trying to get his attention as she ran after him.

He was halfway down the next corridor when he heard her approaching. He turned around, and she stopped just short of running into him.

"Lost?" he questioned as he tossed his robes onto his shoulder.

"No, I just… wanted to… to," she fumbled. Why was this so hard to say? She had formulated the idea of saying it to him in her mind so easily. So why weren't the words coming out now when she needed them to?

"I haven't got all night, Granger," Zabini reminded.

"I just wanted to say… I'm sorry. I really didn't mean for you to get burnt," she sighed as she pointed to his hand.

"It's fine. I'll live," he dismissed.

"And I wanted to thank you for suggesting that we use magic instead."

"Wanted to thank me?" he almost laughed, making her feel slightly stupid. It hadn't seemed like such a dumb thing when she had first thought about it, but now that he brought the situation to light, he was probably more worried about getting done sooner for his own sake rather than hers.

She bit down on her lip and shook her head before tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Good night then," she murmured quickly before turning to walk away.

'_I can't believe I'm about to do this_,' he thought incredulously as he looked to the ceiling in disbelief and reached out for her hand.

In one swift movement, he had stopped her, turned her around, and planted his lips upon hers. Hermione stood frozen to the spot, stiffer than a board and wide-eyed at the realization running through her mind. She was kissing Blaise Zabini. Or rather he was kissing her.

She felt her knees go slightly weak as his arms slinked around her waist, and he pulled her against him. The position was a bit awkward to her because he was so much taller than she was, so she shook herself from her shock and stood upon her tip toes. She wasn't exactly sure where to place her hands, so she laid them on his shoulders and closed her eyes. This was certainly different to her, but enjoyably so.

Sure, she had kissed guys before. Plenty in her mind. There had been Viktor, McLaggen, Ron, and Oliver Wood in her third year because he was so happy with her for helping Harry during a game. But Blaise was noticeably different than the others. He wasn't over-powering, but he wasn't weak either.

A warmth ran through her that almost made her shiver, and she instantly felt that she couldn't get close enough to Zabini. It was certainly odd, but she hadn't the control over her thoughts to even ponder the reason of it. In fact, it would seem that she had lost all control over herself as she became weak all over.

Had she been able to recall where she was at the time, then she might have heard Mrs. Norris meowing as she came padding up the corridor, Filch behind her with a lantern.

"Oy! You!" Filch barked, making Hermione jump and gasp. "You two are in serious trouble. Just wait until I tell your Heads of House that you skipped out of detention early and were snogging in the hallways. You'll hang by your thumbs in the dungeon if I have my way."

Hermione groaned, her shoulders slouching as she felt the need to smack her palm to her forehead for her stupidity at allowing herself to get caught snogging in the hallways. Looking back over her shoulder at Blaise, she felt the frown on her face disappear as he gave her a mischievous sort of glance. '_Another detention with him might not be so bad after all_.'


End file.
